


How to Stay Warm

by aceonthebass



Category: The Beatles
Genre: Beatle Sandwich, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-22
Updated: 2008-10-22
Packaged: 2018-09-18 17:17:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9395366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceonthebass/pseuds/aceonthebass
Summary: My take on one of Paul's favorite stories about "the ways we got to know each other."





	

John took another long swig from the bottle, and let out a breath of pain as the whiskey burned his throat. For a moment, he savored the warmth that spread through him . . . but another sharp gust of wind from the broken windscreen chilled him quickly. He raised the bottle to his mouth for another swallow.  
  
“What d'you think you’re doing up there? Pass it down already!” came George’s indignant voice from below him. John squinted with annoyance,  
  
“Look, it’s colder than a witch’s tit up here, in case you hadn’t noticed,” he said. “You’ve got my bulk warming you. If you want the fucking bottle, talk to Paul about it.”  
  
George growled. “Paul, will you get up there already so he’ll stop his whining and share? You’ve been under long enough.”  
  
“He’s got a point,” chimed in Ringo. “Me legs are getting cramped, smashed between you two.”  
  
“All right, all right,” grumbled Paul. “I can see where I’m not wanted. Budge up, the lot of you.”  
  
With much difficulty, Paul scrambled out from beneath the other three, and leaned unsteadily against the wall of the van so he could slide on top of John. After one last greedy gulp, John passed the bottle down to George, who got one swallow before Paul reached down and yanked it free.  
  
“Eh!” George protested.  
  
“You’ve got two of us on top of you, you tart,” said Paul defensively. “How much more insulation d’you need?”  
  
George huffed with annoyance, but didn’t argue. Paul took a long gulp from the bottle. Silence filled the van for a moment, broken only by the high-pitched hum of tires against the icy pavement and the whistling of wind through the broken glass of the windscreen.  
  
Bizarrely, John could feel the whiskey working its way through his friend’s body as Paul slowly relaxed more and more against him. Paul took another swallow and seemed almost to melt into John.  
  
_It’s like being covered with a duvet_ , John thought vaguely, _or a really enormous cat._  
  
Intoxicated by a lack of sleep and the alcohol in his blood, John basked in the warmth of his bandmate. Shifting slightly as Mal took the van over a bump, his hips pressed up against Paul, who didn’t seem to notice. Another gust of wind through the shattered windscreen made Paul shiver, and John was snapped out of his sleepy daze back to the real world. What in the hell was he doing?  
  
_Just trying to stay warm_ , he assured himself. _It’s a survival situation, isn't it? Can’t be held accountable._  
  
Paul shivered again.  
  
“Hey, Rings, are you about roasted down there yet? Because I think my face is about to freeze up and fall off,” he complained.  
  
“Aw, just another few minutes?”  
  
“C’mon, man, I’m dying up here!”  
  
“Ah well,” said Ringo philosophically. “What goes around must come down.”  
  
“Yeah, that’s the ticket. Get on up here and take your turn. Think of England.”  
  
Ringo sighed theatrically and took up his position on the top of the pile. The added weight pressed Paul even more firmly against John. It was odd how well they fit together, John realized, especially compared to the knees-and-elbows lump beneath him that was George. Paul sighed and turned his head slightly so it rested against John’s shoulder.  
  
Up in front of them, Mal swore quietly as the wind gusted again. Paul handed the bottle down to John, who took another swig. The liquid sloshed around at a worryingly low level. John closed his eyes and felt warmth radiating down and into him from Paul.  
  
“I think—I think we’re nearly there,” said Mal. His teeth were definitely chattering, but there was a note of hope in his voice that hadn’t been there all night.  
  
“Thank god,” muttered George crankily, and Ringo let out a feeble cheer from above them. John stayed quiet. He found that, for the moment, he was content to stay where he was. Handing the almost-empty bottle back up to Paul, their hands touched. John smiled involuntarily, and then shook himself.  
  
_What are you doing?_  he wondered again.  _Nothing. Staying warm._

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Livejournal as scarlett_bat


End file.
